


Found.

by RedStarFiction



Series: Time Moves To A Different Rhythm. [3]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had a prompt a little while ago and I won't say exactly what it was because that gives away where I am going with this, but this chapter and the one following are going to move away from fluff and I would really appreciate any feedback as I feel I am now stepping even further away from canon and it's a little frightening! haha!<br/>So, here we go, part one of "Found".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was meant to be a two-part deviation within 'There Are Four Of Us Now' but I've got carried away and so now I am linking it in with the Time Moves To A Different Rhythm series but giving it it's own status as it is growing as fast as my poor little brain can think! haha! Thank you for your patience! Han xx

Bree clambered out of the mill pond first and tugged the oversized shirt over her head, shaking it down to mid-thigh.   
“OK!”  
She called to Ian, who had been obediently facing the other way. He climbed out and stood dripping next to Bree.   
“Ye dinna need to act as though ye’ve never seen a *bot* before!”  
“You don’t need to wave yours about!”  
“I’m no’ wavin’ it.”  
Ian moved his hands to shield himself, scowling at his cousin. He tugged his breeks on and the two finished dressing in silence.  
“Do ye want to see the fae tree?”  
Bree rolled her eyes. Ian had been pestering about the Fae tree ever since Aunty Jenny had told them they weren’t to go up there.  
“It’s just a tree!”  
“No! It’s … weel … I mean… perhaps to ye it’s just a tree…”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Bree narrowed her eyes and Ian held up his hands defensively  
“Weel … I mean … ye’re half-fae aren’t ye?”  
“What?!”  
Ian noticed the colour creeping up from under Bree’s collar and realised that he was perhaps on dangerous ground.  
“Ah … because o’ … aunty Claire…”  
“My Mama is NOT a fairy!”  
Bree snapped taking two menacing steps forward  
“No, but she is an Auld One is she no’? I dinna mean any disrespect!”  
He added hastily but Brianna was building herself up to a fury and there was slim chance of him being able to back out now.  
“You take that back!”  
“But…”  
“TAKE IT BACK!”  
Bree shouted and Ian felt his own temper stir  
“Dinna be comin’ the high and mighty wi’ me! Ye ken that Aunty Claire is no … usual…”  
Bree’s fist whipped out, catching Ian on the chin as he jerked his head back. He regained his footing and glared at her, fists clenched by his side  
“Try that again and I’ll skelp ye a good ‘un!”  
“Skelp me?!”  
“Aye! Ye’re my younger cousin and a lassie and …”  
Whatever else Ian might have had to say was cut off as Brianna lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. Ian rolled on top of her, landing with both knees in her stomach, driving the wind from her with a startled gasp.   
“Are ye alright?”  
He asked, standing and looking down at Bree  
“I’ll kick … kick your …”  
The words choked out of Bree’s throat as she scrambled to her feet. Ian had the advantage and had it been Michael or one of his male friends, he would have thumped them and been done with it, but the thought of clouting a girl … even if she hit him first, well it didn’t feel quite right. Plus there was the thought of facing Uncle Jamie if he clipped Bree’s face …  
Brianna gained her breath and stood facing Ian.   
“You take it back about my Mama…”  
“Fine! Ye Mam maybe isn’t Fae, but she might be! Ye dinna ken for sure!”  
“I know!”  
Bree growled and Ian rolled his eyes  
“Course ye think ye do! But ye dinna!”  
Bree licked her lip, she knew that she could probably hold her own against Ian. For all that he was a year older they were of a similar height, but her Da had warned her about fighting and spanked both of them last time it happened, or happened with his knowledge, though that may have been to do with the broken crockery than the fight and it was better than going to the gate with Uncle Ian …   
Ian saw the flush on her face begin to cool down and seeing his moment, held out his hand  
“Truce?”  
“Alright.”  
Bree shook it and squared her shoulders.   
“Let’s go to the fairy tree then.”  
“Are ye sure?”  
Bree nodded tersely, the truth was that she was a little frightened of the fairy tree and the thought that it might possess the same power as the stones made her shudder. All the same she was not about to let Ian see that.  
“Yes! Come on!”  
*  
“I’m goin’ to have a bruise there ye ken?”  
Ian grumbled as they trudged along. Bree glanced at him out of the corner of her eye  
“Sorry.”  
She said and realised that she genuinely was a little sorry for hitting her cousin. Ian had become her best friend, especially now that Fergus seemed to be off courting or something.   
“It’s alright. I winded ye, so I think we’re even.”  
Bree nodded and an easy silence resumed between them.  
“It’s over there…”  
Ian helped Bree clamber up over the thick roots of an ancient oak and pointed toward a bent and tarnished old tree that Bree half recognised but had never seen in Scotland, it’s leaves wide and flat and shaped like a star.   
“Is that a Maple? You know, like maple syrup?”  
Ian looked at her askance and shrugged  
“I dinna ken, but if I were ye, I wouldna touch it and Mam’ll go spare if ye start bringin’ bits o’ it into the house.”  
Bree nodded, she had no intention of touching it but she did feel compelled to go closer …  
“Bree!”  
Ian hissed as she edged through the dappled sunlight and squatted beside the huge old trunk. It was so vast she doubted that even Da would get his arms half-way around it. Carefully, without touching it, Brianna leant in and closed her eyes. She could hear something ... it was faint but guiding ... like a submarine signal on the edge of an ocean trench, dropping away to nothing ...  
“There’s something here!”  
Bree called and with a muffled curse, Ian began to clamber towards her.  
“What is it? Ye canna take offerings from the tree, it’s the worst form of luck and also a bit morally wrong seein’ as …”  
“Shhh!”  
Brianna waved an impatient hand at him and listened. The tree was humming now! It wasn’t like a musical humming; it was more like her Da’s version of humming, tuneless and low but oddly comforting all the same.  
“Can you hear that?”  
“Aye, likely a bee hive…”  
Ian whispered uncertain and a little on edge, wishing his cousin would hurry up and they could go back to the pond.  
“It’s under the moss …”  
“What is?”  
“I don’t know …”  
Bree frowned but her hands knew where to look and reaching beneath the layers of soft green vegetation she felt the hard corner of a box.  
“Help me…”  
She whispered and Ian slowly leant forward, eyes widening in amazement as together they pulled out a small, tin box covered in filth.  
“How did ye …”  
“I don’t know.”  
Bree sat back on her heels feeling suddenly exhausted and more than a little shaken.  
Ian rubbed his hand over the top of the lid, scraping away the thick layer of surface dirt before thoughtlessly scrubbing the rest with the sleeve of his shirt  
“What do ye think that is meant to be? Engraved into to the top there?”  
He asked, holding the tin out for Bree to inspect. She glanced at it for a moment and then turned it the other way up, the fine hairs on her arms rising.  
“It’s a typewriter.”  
She whispered. A sound like wind rushing through a tunnel filled her ears and she became vaguely aware of her vision narrowing until all that remained was the scratchy surface of the little tin box.  
*Woah.*  
Thought Brianna, an instant before she fainted.


	2. Found. Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing from Found pt.1. I have really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope you enjoy reading it too. It's quite different to my usual style and choice but it has been niggling at me for months and I finally thought to try and write it. It's quite a long chapter, so apologies and please bear with me. Thank you for reading as always, Han.

“AUNYT CLAIRE! MAM!”  
Claire and Jenny glanced at each other, the urgency in Wee Ian’s shout sending sparks of alarm through each of them, before simultaneously dropping the dough and running into the court yard.  
“Bree!”  
Claire ran toward the children, both caked in mud and dirt and looking thoroughly dishevelled. Bree was leaning against Ian for support, face white as a sheet, her legs trembling.  
“What happened?”  
She asked, running her hands across her daughter’s slender frame checking for any direct injury.  
“I fainted Mama.”  
Bree’s voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes were glazed. Ian shifted his weight and licked his lips, avoiding his own mother’s eyes.  
“Ian, are ye well mo chridhe?”  
Jenny laid a gentle hand on her son’s cheek; concern overriding any other emotion, though Ian knew as soon as he told her where they’d been that was likely to change.  
“I dinna feel verra well Mam…”  
Ian allowed his eyes to droop, in truth he was bone tired and so it was not exactly an act but also there was no way he was doing the telling all by himself either. He would just have to wait for Bree to feel better and then they could do it together.  
Claire turned her attention to him and lifted each of his eyelids in turn  
“Did either of you hit your heads?”  
“I dinna think so … Bree clipped my chin …”  
Ian turned his head to let his Aunty see the bruise, not really thinking about it.  
“Claire?”  
Jamie and Robbie appeared from around the side of the house, no doubt having come from the privy, Ian thought dimly.  
“What’s happened?”  
Ian grimaced; if Uncle Jamie was asking he doubted that an explanation was going to be able to wait any longer.  
“We don’t know yet, it seems the wee loons have been scrapping and may have knocked what wee bit o’ sense they had out o’ each other.”  
Jenny answered as Claire continued to prod and poke at the children without much response save a squeak from Ian as she felt across his ribs.  
“Da…”  
Bree blinked as if waking and looked up at her father. Jamie’s brows knitted together and he squatted down before them both, next to Claire.  
“Are ye hurt then?”  
Jamie asked softly and Bree shook her head. Piercing blue eyes met with Ian’s and the same question was asked. Ian shook his head mutely, wondering exactly how much longer these gentle proceedings were going to go on. Robbie toddled forward and pressed his little palm to Bree’s chest, the highest point on his sister he could reach.  
“Poor Bwee.”  
He muttered and wrapped his arms around her middle. Brianna smiled vacantly down at her little brother and ruffled his hair.  
“Hi Robbie.”  
Jamie seemed to make up his mind about something and gave a short nod.  
“Right, into the house.”  
“I dinna think Bree should walk on her own Uncle. She took a bad spill.”  
Ian tried to sound manly and commanding but his voice cracked embarrassingly and he felt heat creep into his face.  
Jamie nodded to his nephew and gently scooped Brianna up into his arms, carrying her into the kitchen. Once settled at the table, cups of strong tea half drunk and slices of bread and butter eaten, Jamie cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table top.  
“I would be most obliged if ye could please explain what ye have been up to and why ye have been fighting this time.”  
He shifted his gaze between each of the children. Brianna was still a little pale but looking much better and Ian seemed almost completely restored to his usual cheerful countenance, although his expression wavered as Jamie spoke.  
“We weren’t fighting Da … well … I did punch Ian but …”  
“Brianna, if ye dinna consider that fighting…”  
Jamie began but trailed off, he meant to allow them a chance to explain at the very least. It wasn’t fair to interrupt.  
“I asked if Aunty Claire was a Fae.”  
Ian mumbled, eyes fixed on the table. He heard his uncle take a sharp intake of breath and winced but it was his aunty who spoke.  
“It’s a fair question Ian, in truth I don’t know. I don’t think I am but…”  
Claire shrugged and Ian wished the ground would swallow him whole  
“It’s not that I’d mind Aunty and I meant no insult, I just … wondered.”  
He finished lamely and kept his eyes firmly on the table for fear that the stare coming from his uncle might turn him to ash on the spot.  
“It was my fault Da. I … I did something I shouldn’t have and then I went somewhere I shouldn’t have and Ian followed me.”  
Bree spoke quietly but raised her chin defiantly, meeting her father’s eyes with more boldness than she felt. Ian jerked beside her, startled, and frowned.  
“I’m no’ a sheep Bree!”  
He turned his gaze reluctantly to his Uncle, although his eyes flicked towards Jenny stood over Jamie’s right shoulder.  
“I went to the millpond wi’ Bree and …”  
He took a breath and then let it out in a rush of words  
“IsuggestedwegotothefaerietreeandwedidandBreefainted…”  
“Slow down. Ye what?”  
Jamie held up his hand, a smile playing in the corner of his mouth anger fading as quickly as it had flared.  
“We went to see the faerie tree, Da.”  
Bree answered, shrugging helplessly. There was no sense in lying or excusing it.  
“Brianna!”  
Claire shook her head and sighed.  
“Ye were told …”  
“I know Da, I know we were.”  
Bree was still looking at her mother and Claire got the sense that there was something more to come. A sense that Jamie clearly had too.  
“We’ll deal wi’ those two things in a moment, what else is there? Ian ye look like ye’re about to wet ye breeks, do ye need to relieve yeself?”  
Ian shook his head and bit his lip. Despite the trouble they were clearly in, excitement was bubbling in his chest and he didn’t think he could contain it much longer  
“We found something at the Faerie tree!”  
He gushed, a grin splitting his face despite himself.  
“Ian James Murray, if ye ha’ taken an offering to the Fae …”  
Jamie caught his sister’s arm as she made to move round the table, possibly to throttle her youngest child.  
“I do sincerely hope ye havena interfered wi’ things left there.”  
He said, his voice dropping to a dangerously low pitch.  
“Ah … weel …”  
Ian floundered and looked at Bree imploringly  
“It was left there for me.”  
She said quietly and all the adults turned their attention to her.  
“What do ye mean?”  
Jamie frowned. It was not like Brianna to be conceited in anyway, but thinking that a grieving mother might have left tribute for *her* …  
Brianna looked directly at Claire  
“The tree was alive Mama, like the stones. It was humming … Ian heard it too. It … it called me.”  
The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck stood upright and she could see the fine copper hairs on the back of Jamie’s neck doing likewise. Claire was vaguely aware of both Jamie and Jenny crossing themselves but her attention was strictly on her daughter.  
“Ye heard it too Ian?”  
Jenny’s brow creased in concern and Jamie caught her hand in his own, squeezing reassuringly  
“I did Mam, but it didna make me feel queer like it did Bree.”  
Claire was still watching Bree.  
“Did you touch it?”  
“No Mama, but it gave me this …”  
Bree reached into her satchel and produced the little tin, placing it on the table in front of the adults.  
“It gave you…?”  
Claire frowned at her daughter, not fully understanding  
“It … guided me to it Mama, I don’t know why but it did.”  
Claire leant past Jamie and picked up the little tin with her right hand, the silver of her ring grating gently against the metal, her left hand stilling him as his body jerked forward, instinctively moving to shield her.  
“Have you opened it?”  
“No, I found it and then I fainted and Ian carried me away. He brought me home.”  
Bree flashed a grateful smile at her cousin and Ian returned it shyly.  
“It was more o’ a drag.”  
He murmured bashfully and Jenny snorted.  
“Aye weel at least ye had that much sense to get away from the thing.”  
Jamie made an approving noise at the back of his throat and softened the look he had been giving his nephew considerably.  
“Aye, good lad.”  
Claire looked down at the tin and her heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking the etching, it was clearly an Underwood typewriter, this tin had probably been used to hold spare ink or maybe even replacement keys but regardless what it held it was not of this time.  
Jamie didn’t bother looking at the tin; a glance at Claire’s face told him all he needed to know.  
“Maybe take it to the study Sassenach?”  
He murmured  
“But I want to see …”  
Ian began but bit the words off as two identical sets of narrowed blue eyes turned on him, neither of them boding well. His Uncle at least looked a little impressed, his mother not so much.  
“Ye will be stayin’ here wi’ ye cousin and gettin’ a bath, then ye will be goin’ to ye room an’ waitin’ for ye Da.”  
Jenny snapped, and levelled a finger at both children.  
“Dinna try me any further than ye already have.”  
She turned to Claire and Jamie and set her jaw stubbornly.  
“If ye ha’ need o’ me I’ll be here wi’ the bairns.”  
“Thank ye Jenny,”  
Jamie stood and walked around the table, Ian flinched but Brianna held steady looking up at her father with a tired but resolute expression. Jamie bent stiffly at the waist and cupped her face in his hands, planting a kiss in the centre of her forehead, heedless of the grime.  
“Fhuair mi faochadh the thu, mo nighean.”  
Ian let out the breath he had been holding and Jamie gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair.  
“Ye too, mo pheathar.”  
“Aye we all are, now get ye gone so I can clean the wee fiends up a mite bit.”  
Jenny spoke gruffly but as she urged her niece and son toward the fireplace to undress her hands were gentle and she offered a quiet prayer of thanks that neither were harmed.  
*  
Claire placed the tin on Jamie’s desk and together they contemplated it.  
“Ye ken what that is then Sassenach?”  
Jamie asked, his voice low.  
“I do, it’s a typewriter. A device invented in the mid-nineteenth century I believe, it is like a very small, personal printing press.”  
Jamie pursed his lips.  
“Another traveller then?”  
Claire nodded. She felt a certain level of detachment looking at the object, as if she were standing back and observing someone else dealing with it.  
“I didn’t know there were stones like Craigh na Dun near here.”  
She said absently. Jamie shook his head  
“There arena any. I should ken them if there were.”  
“The fairy tree?”  
Jamie shrugged as if his shirt was suddenly too tight  
“It’s an ancient tree to be sure but I ha’ never ken any mysterious disappearances near it nor legends that speak o’ such things, or at least nout beyond the usual …”  
Claire ran a finger along the edge of the tin and making up her mind, pushed the lid upwards. It squeaked against the rust that had crusted its hinges but opened easily enough. Inside was a carefully bundled piece of leather and a silver fountain pen. Claire smiled faintly; she had never thought to see such a thing again. She handed the pen to Jamie, who took it with more than a little reluctance.  
“What is it?”  
“A fountain pen, like a quill but neater and more reliable.”  
Claire smiled, twisting the lid off to expose the nib.  
“Do ye dip it in ink?”  
“No, the ink is already inside it.”  
Intrigued, Jamie reached for a scrap of parchment and bent to test it.  
“You only need to press very lightly…”  
Claire cautioned and Jamie obediently followed, gripping the pen a little awkwardly, more used to the narrow shaft of feather. He gave an excited whoop of delight as his cursive appeared as if by magic.  
Still smiling Claire turned her attention back to the little leather pouch. There was a trace of scent that was somehow familiar. It had been stronger when she first opened the box but now, exposed to the air, it was dissipating fast.  
The leather was loosely bound; whoever had left it was confident of the strength of the tin and its ability to provide shelter, if not keep out all damp. Inside was a small square of card, face down, which Claire knew to be a photo by the feel of it and a folded letter. She placed the photo, still face down in the tin and unfolded the letter. As her eyes took in the familiar penmanship and the words written, she felt the room around her spin and sat down hard in the chair behind her. Jamie was by her side in an instant, new toy forgotten and left in carefully dissected pieces on his desk.  
“Sassenach?”  
His eyes searched her face intently and Claire held the letter out for his inspection by means of answer. Jamie frowned and took the small piece of paper, flimsier than parchment and thinly lined to aide whoever was writing, he supposed.  
Tearing his eyes from Claire’s pale, staring countenance he turned his attention to the letter.

My dearest, dearest Claire,  
There is slim chance of you ever reading this letter but I feel I must write it in any case. I am so dreadfully sorry I did not have a chance to say goodbye to you. It was rather sudden and …anyway my dearest, you will be fine. The efforts of day to day living often distract us from what we should be most focused on and we forget to say the simplest of things so I say them now, in a letter you most likely will never read but at least one of us will know I DID say them: I love you my darling girl, and I am as proud of you as any uncle, or father for that matter, has ever been.  
The stones have taken much from you … well I don’t truly know how much but I always thought a car wreck to be suspicious... But I do hope, with every fibre of my being that one day the stones will give you joy in as great a measure as they have taken. That may mean someone makes a journey to you, or possibly you to them. Either way embrace it my dear, you deserve all the happiness in the world.  
All my love,  
Goodbye.  
Q.L.B

Jamie put down the small sheet and looked across at Claire, his mouth suddenly dry. She sat rigid in the chair, tears falling silently down her cheeks. Slowly he gathered her up from the chair and sat himself in it, pulling her onto his lap as he had all those years before at Leoch, soothing her and letting her use him as an anchor to cling to.  
A little while later, when Claire had exhausted her tears and had mopped her face on a quietly offered handkerchief, Jamie lifted his chin from her head and smiled weakly down at her.  
“Ye did say as that ye uncle was an interestin’ man, no?”  
Claire snorted and wiped her nose on the handkerchief.  
“Not the word I’d choose right this second, but yes.”  
“What did he mean by ‘car wreck’?”  
Claire shivered and Jamie pulled her tightly against himself  
“My parents.”  
She whispered and Jamie’s arms tightened even further around her, absorbing her pain as best he could.  
“When do ye think …”  
Jamie bit the words off as he felt Claire stiffen and mentally kicked himself for his thoughtlessness. There would be a time for such questions but that time would be decided by Claire; she would seek the questions and their answers when she was ready.  
“I don’t know and I am not sure how I could even begin to find out but …”  
Claire shook her head sadly and then balled her fists, leaping to her feet and whirling to face him with such ferocity Jamie felt his heart skip and to his shame, his cock harden.  
“Jamie, I am so bloody tired of the past and of fucking mystery! I just want to be here with you and our children and Jenny and Ian and the rest of the Murray’s … the rest of our family!  
She picked up the letter and stuffed it into the tin, slamming the lid down hard.  
“I just want to be … normal!”  
Claire’s voice cracked on the last word and Jamie stood from the chair, coming to stand before his wife with hands outstretched to meet hers.  
“Ah, weel, no’ to disappoint ye Sassenach, but ne’er in a thousand years, could ye ever be considered ‘normal’ ye are far too special for such a thing mo duinne.”  
Claire returned his slanted smile with a small tug of her lips.  
“I’m so sorry Jamie.”  
“What for lass? Ye’ve done me no’ wrong!”  
“I complicate your life at every turn!”  
Claire cried, her voice rising in agitation but Jamie didn’t alter his smile.  
“Ah. Aye, that ye do. But I ha’ a fair notion that I’d manage to do so, e’en wi’out ye and given the choice Sassenach, I would always rather ha’ ye by my side.”  
Jamie smoothed a stray curl back from her face and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  
“The stones will give you joy in as great a measure as they have taken.”  
Claire murmured her breath warm and faintly sweet on his mouth.  
“He got that much right, they truly have.”  
She stroked a hand down her husband’s cheek and for a moment both of them were transported over the years.  
“Blood of my blood.”  
Jamie whispered and Claire answered him as she always had and always would  
“Bone of my bone.”  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fhuair mi faochadh tha thu sàbhailte, mo nighean =  
> I am relieved you are safe my daughter - the syntax may not be quite right. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> mo pheathar =  
> my nephew


	3. Found. pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please do let me know any thoughts, questions you have as I really enjoy any feedback, it helps me think and your prompts are always amazing! Thank you :) Han

Claire had gone to speak to Bree, she wanted to reassure her and also give her both a more thorough check over medically and Jamie had to admit that his temper was too high to be dealing with the wee miscreant at the moment. Instead he stayed behind, ostensibly to calm himself in order to see to his daughter fairly but in truth he really just wanted some time to think.  
The wee box was fairly grimy but not overly rusted and Jamie doubted that it had been in the ground any more than a few years, though he had refrained from saying so.   
If he had to put money to it he would have guessed that Quentin Lambert Beauchamp knew a great deal more than he had put in his wee note and that the man had made his way to Lallybroch after making some enquiries but seeing no sign of Claire, nor Jamie, had decided to go back from wence he came.   
Jamie’s first thought was to ask Jenny if any men had come asking for Claire in the years since the rising but of course that was a stupid thing. Men came looking for many things in those days, food, shelter, news of any kind really and Jamie credited a man with as much world experience as Mr Beauchamp with more sense than to ask directly.  
Claire had mentioned that her uncle had perished in her Great War though, and that was a fair amount of time before she had ever heard of Jamie, let alone married him! Of course, all of those events had happened in 1743, Mr Beauchamp supposedly perished around 1940 by Claire’s own timeline – that meant that there should be a record of their marriage and other documents, after all Claire had known of Culloden before being thrust into the time directly before it … Jamie’s fingers drummed against his leg. The image of time as a linear thing had long been ripped from him, but he had often pictured it in a sort of single curve, though now he couldn’t remember exactly why he had thought that. Now he saw it as a great spiral staircase but one that criss-crossed back over itself with as many opportunities to retreat and take a different path as there were to continue straight up.   
Jamie shook his head to clear the slightly fuzzy, dizzy feeling that had gathered there. There was something more personal niggling at him. If Beauchamp knew about Claire, why the Hell had the man not told her? Warned her! Jamie’s fists balled in his lap and he took a strong breath through his nose. The uncomfortable answer that came to him was that Beauchamp had somehow known about what it was between him and Claire. There was no other answer for him not warning his beloved niece of what lay ahead of her, or what he suspected lay ahead of her.  
*She would never have chosen to pass through the stones*   
Jamie thought and felt a rush of fury at the same time as a knee trembling relief and gratitude. In not telling her, Beauchamp had robbed Claire of her own free choice, he had allowed her to wander into danger and uncertainty and heart ache and yet … if he had done otherwise, she would never have gone to Crag na Dun and never have met Jamie.   
“Aye, weel thank ye then, ye conniving auld bastard … ah … God rest ye soul.”  
He huffed, slapping his hand down on the tin. The pen was still in pieces on his desk, his curiosity over how it worked was greater than his enjoyment of seeing his penmanship and Jamie carefully put it back together and lifted the lid of the tin to replace it. The little square of card which Claire had discarded was still face down and although Jamie knew it was wrong, he found his fingers inching toward it.  
*Weel that settles the matter o’ whether ye can punish Brianna for that particular act o’ foolishness today, if the lassie canna help prodding things that arena hers, she comes by the tendency honest.*   
He thought with a rueful half smile as he lifted the square. A small folded piece of wire held another little note to the front of it

*Claire,  
I wanted to prove I am who I claim to be but dare not use a more recent photograph lest it fall into the wrong hands and betray your identity. This choice serves two purposes my dear and may answer a question or two as well.   
Q.L.B*

Jamie moved the note and a smile lit his face, a noise of surprise and joy escaping his lips. It was black and white, like the wee photograph of Brianna as a baby which Claire had brought for him. The little girl in the picture was clutching a small cat to her chest, beaming at the camera. One of her front milk-teeth was missing, the adult tooth not yet grown through leaving a sweet wee gap. Her hair exploded from her head in a riot of dark curls cascading onto her shoulders. Claire! His Claire as a lassie looking like no one so much as their wee lad, Robbie. Jamie stroked a finger across the snub features and grinned broadly. Whether it was wrong of him or no, Jamie was intensely glad he had seen the picture. His eyes roamed away from Claire and came to settle on a gentleman crouched a little away from her, but smiling towards the camera. Jamie frowned as recognition blossomed; he knew that face but where … Paris! The squat wee man with the curious shop … Raymond! Master Raymond! Jamie’s stomach flipped and he narrowed his eyes as if expecting the photo to try and perform some trickery on him.   
True Claire had befriended the man quickly but Jamie would swear on the bible that Claire had not known the man previously.   
*Would ye swear it on the bairns?*  
A little voice in his head asked snarkily and Jamie put the photo back in the box as he found it. Claire had not even glanced at the thing, she hadn’t seen it, nor had she prevented him from seeing it. He couldn’t very well be accusing her of … Jamie paused in his thoughts, uncertain of what exactly he had started to accuse Claire of. Knowing a man as a child and befriending him in later life was hardly a crime.   
He glanced at the clock on the mantle and realised that he had been in here for quite some time and his daughter was still waiting on him. Checking that he had not left any obvious sign of rifling through the box, he closed the lid and headed for Brianna’s room.

*

Bree hugged Robbie tightly against her chest and smiled as she felt his hands gently patting her back.   
“Is OK Bwee. Is OK.”  
His voice was muffled in the wool of her dress but the sympathetic tone was evident and Bree sniffed, wiping a hand under her eyes before leaning back to look down at her little brother.  
“I know, I’m just being silly.”  
She smiled a little stronger but her lip quivered and Robbie made a noise at the back of his throat that sounded so like their Da it actually made Bree laugh.  
“You don’t have to sit in here with me. Why don’t you go and see if Aunt Jenny has finished the shortbread?”  
Robbie shook his head and slid off Brianna’s lap, settling himself on the bed beside her.   
“I pwotect ye.”  
He said stubbornly and glared at the door menacingly. Bree ruffled his hair and sighed   
“It was my fault Robbie, I shouldn’t have gone where I did.”  
Robbie shrugged and patted her leg in a manner that suggested he didn’t much care what she had done, he had made up his mind and was sticking with her.   
“Thanks.”  
She whispered and was given a small lopsided smile in response.  
“Di-nna fash.”  
*  
It wasn’t long before there was a rap on the door but no matter how expected it was, Bree still jolted. Claire stepped into the room and Bree let out the breath she had been holding. Her mother smiled slightly and inclined her head in acknowledgement.  
“Just me for now. I’ve just checked on Ian and now it’s your turn.”  
“Dinna shout at Bwee.”  
Robbie commanded, scowling at his mother fiercely, little hand gripping his sister’s much larger palm tightly.  
“I’m not going to shout at anyone.”  
Claire assured him solemnly   
“Though I wouldn’t try telling your father what to do in that tone young man.”  
Robbie ignored the implied rebuke and simply blinked at his mother, jaw set stubbornly and Claire sighed, placing her hands on her hips.   
“Of course. I suppose those Fraser genes had to start showing at some point.”  
Her voice was resigned though tinged with amusement all the same and as she pulled a chair over to sit beside the bed, Bree gathered her courage and decided to speak up.  
“Are you mad at me Mama?”  
Claire considered for a moment before answering.  
“I am more than a little frustrated that you and Ian choose to be so wilfully disobedient, yes. You have the run of so much of the estate! Why you would both choose to go to two places you are expressly forbidden from going …”  
Claire sighed as she took in the hunched set of her daughter’s shoulders and guilty expression.  
“Is Da mad too?”  
Claire made a non-committal noise at the back of her throat. Once the realisation had dawned on Jamie that Bree could have been sucked through time to God knew where if the tree served as a portal – which was incredibly unlikely but still – he had gone into the sort of rage that was normally reserved for stubbed toes or other horrible shocks – short lived but overwhelmingly intense.   
“Does she ha’ no notion o’ her own safety?! Does she ken nothin’ o’ this time?!”  
“The faerie tree and the stones are rather timeless to be fair …”  
“Dinna tell me to be fair Sassenach! The lass is disobedient and irresponsible …”  
“And brave and fierce, just like her father.”  
Claire had interrupted his tirade, wrapping her arms around his waist, stilling his impatient march up and down the study rug.   
“Let me talk to her and Ian first. You going up there in a temper is not going to help.”  
“I …”  
“Please, Jamie. They’re both exhausted. Do this for me?”  
Jamie had subsided with no small amount of reluctance but he had stayed put which was something.  
“He’ll calm down.”  
Claire smiled and Bree puffed her cheeks out with a deep breathe.   
“OK.”  
The silence between them lasted a few more moments and then Bree’s shoulders slumped.  
“I’m sorry Mama. I am so, so sorry.”  
She managed, before the brave façade she had kept up since finding the little tin finally cracked and she burst into tears. Claire gathered her daughter into her arms and held her close, rocking her gently, her cheek pressed to the warm auburn crown of her head.   
“It’s alright …”  
“It’s not! I saw your face when you looked at that tin, you were so scared and Ian said it could be evil but I was drawn to it so maybe that means I’m evil too…”  
“Oh Bree!”  
Claire fought back a sudden urge to laugh  
“The tin is not evil, and you are most certainly not evil either, but it was a shock.”  
“Like us – when we showed up?”  
Bree asked sniffing mightily in an attempt to regain some composure, still sandwiched between her mother’s long graceful arms and her little brother’s shorter stockier ones.  
“Er … yes I suppose.”  
Claire nodded and pushed Bree gently upright.   
“It was a message for me Bree, from my Uncle Lamb. You know I told you about him?”  
“I thought he died.”  
“So did I but … well … it appears he is or was a traveller like us.”  
“Is he here?”  
Claire bit her lip; it was a possibility but a slim one. The thought of being reunited with her uncle gave Claire a soft, ball of warmth in the pit of her stomach but the chances of him having arrived in the right time were so remote … what would have called him? She had certainly never been near the stones during the Blitz when she lost him.   
Claire realised that she had not answered her daughter’s question.  
“I don’t know darling.”  
“What did the note say?”  
Bree’s blue eyes were a little bloodshot but they were wide and fixed on Claire; curiosity overriding everything else.  
“Be happy Mama!”  
Robbie, who had been happily watching the conversation, now beamed up at Claire and spread his arms wide.  
“And love for darling girl!”  
He added, nodding sagely. Bree looked between her mother and brother and reading her Mama’s expression, her jaw dropped.  
“Did it say that Mama?!”  
“Amongst other things.”  
Claire murmured. She lifted Robbie from the bed and sat him on her own lap.   
“How did you know that baby?”  
Her voice sounded far away and shaky even to her own ears. Robbie’s smile dipped a little as he bit his lip uncertainly, a trait he had inherited from Claire herself. She made an effort to collect herself and smiled brightly at the little boy, suddenly very relieved that Jamie had agreed to wait downstairs.  
“It’s alright honey; I just wondered that’s all.”  
“I dinna ken.”  
“OK,”  
Claire nodded and smoothed his hair down, smiling as the curls sprang out from under her fingers.  
“It doesn’t matter!”  
She added meeting Bree’s gaze and holding it. She didn’t want Bree quizzing her brother later to try and prod it out of him.  
There was a brief knock and they all looked up as Jamie entered the room, he took in the crease of his wife’s brow and his daughter’s red rimmed eyes and even the wee laddie looking out of sorts and made up his mind that any scolding he wanted to deliver could wait. He crossed to the bed, plonking himself between Bree and Robbie with enough force to bounce both children into him, making them giggle.  
“Seldom ha’ I ken this room to be steeped in a grim silence!”  
He smiled; tickling Robbie’s tummy and helping Bree sit up beside him. She was eyeing him a little cautiously and Jamie carefully kept his attention diverted, letting her relax. He remembered well enough the anxiety of waiting for a father to pass judgement and Bree had been waiting a fair while.  
Jamie let Robbie squirm away and scoot behind him, clambering up Jamie’s back to cling around his neck like a monkey before finally turning to Bree.  
“I wish to speak wi’ ye Brianna. Though if ye are too worn from the excitements o’ the day, it can wait.”  
He caught Claire’s eye as he offered this, lip quirking in acknowledgement and reassurance that he was in better temper.  
“I’m fine Da. What about Ian?”  
Jamie’s brow creased in a frown  
“Ian has his own father to speak wi’ him.”  
“But …”  
Bree paused considering and then shrugged, her mind made up. Jamie already knew what she would say, Claire’s glass face was something inherited by both children although Bree could cover her emotions like Jamie if she prepared.  
“If Ian gets sent to the gate, ye are welcome to join him Brianna, though before ye speak I think it fair to say that he likely will.”  
Jamie cocked an eyebrow at her and Bree met his gaze directly for the first time since he entered the room.  
"But I won't be?"  
"No. Ye won't."  
Jamie said with finality. Bree nodded and gave her father a small lopsided smile.  
“I'll join Ian then, whether we get sent out or no'. With ye permission and blessing athair”  
Jamie inclined his head, matching the gravity of Brianna’s speech with his own, placing a discreet but restraining hand on Claire’s leg.  
“I trust ye to do as ye see right, mo nighean. I will wait for ye.”  
Bree licked her lip once, steeling herself and then hurried out towards Ian’s room before she could lose her nerve. Robbie dropped down onto his bottom on the bed and hastily clambered down to follow but Jamie caught the back of his shirt and gently tugged him back  
“Ye’d best wait here a bhalaich. Ye sister has a wee matter to settle wi’ herself.”  
Robbie frowned but understood his father’s tone well enough not to argue.  
“Jamie …”  
“Let the lass do as she sees fit to ease her guilt Sassenach.”  
“But …”   
“Brave and fierce like her mother, eh?”  
“I said father!”  
Claire retorted mildly and Jamie smiled  
“Aye I ken weel enough what ye said. Same as I ken what I say. She is truly your daughter, mo chridhe and I can pay neither o’ ye a greater compliment."


	4. Found pt4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick (-ish) chapter devoted to looking at Ian and Bree's relationship now that they have found their place with each other and also Bree confronting her 'Outlander' ways with Jamie.

Bree knocked lightly on Ian’s door and heard the slightly high pitched invitation to enter.   
“It’s only me.”  
She smiled; stepping lightly into the room, laughing at Ian’s shocked expression. He was sat cross legged on the bed, his bible open beside him and his hair in a skewed club that he had no doubt tried to do himself.  
“Ah … cousin. I …”  
Ian began and then stopped pursing his lips.  
“What are ye doin’ here?”  
“I’ve come to wait with you. Da says he’s not sending me out to the gate so…”  
“Lucky ye!”  
Ian snapped and Bree rolled her eyes. Ian had expressed his envy of her parent’s greater reluctance to use physical means of chastisement on several occasions.   
“SO,”  
She pressed on doggedly  
“I’m going to go with you and Uncle Ian instead.”  
Ian’s jaw dropped and Bree grinned triumphantly at him. It wasn’t often that her cousin was at a loss for words.  
“Why?”  
“We’re in this together. It’s only fair.”  
Bree shrugged and Ian allowed a small grin of his own to light his face.  
“Aye, I suppose but ye dinna have to. I dinna really mind, ye’re Himself’s daughter after all.”  
“Exactly!”  
Bree jumped onto the bed and sat beside Ian  
“I’d best learn to take care of my people!”  
Ian snorted  
“That’ll be Robbie’s job, aye?”  
“Why? I’m the eldest!”  
Bree frowned as Ian nodded sagely  
“Aye, but ye’re a lass! Mam is older than Uncle Jamie but he’s the Laird, ken? It’s how things are.”  
Bree made a newly acquired Scottish noise at the back of her throat but pushed the thought to one side, she had enough to contend with today.  
“Do you want me to club your hair properly?”  
She offered and Ian nodded without hesitation.  
“Aye, I’d appreciate it. It doesna often change much but I ken Da likes to see as we’ve made the effort to look presentable.”  
Bree looked down at her clothes uncertainly and Ian chuckled  
“Dinna fash! Ye look bonnie as they come nay matter the state o’ ye.”  
Bree felt a faint blush spread across her cheeks. Ian wasn’t exactly mean to her but he was normally tactlessly neutral and it was quite possibly the first time he had ever complimented her unprompted.  
“Thank you.”  
Bree moved behind him and clicked her tongue at the state of his hair  
“What? Mam normally does it for me! Or Maggie if Mam is busy.”  
“Well you need to learn!”  
Bree advised and Ian shrugged good naturedly.  
“Aye most likely. So ye’ve spoken to Uncle Jamie?”  
“And Mama. They’re pretty mad but more worried about us than anything.”  
“Mmm. Mam was the same. D’ye think Uncle Jamie might have a word wi’ my Da?”  
Bree shook her head  
“No, I don’t think so.”  
Ian nodded as well as her grip on his hair would allow and the tension went out of his shoulders.  
“Ah weel, that’s that then. But … it was a good adventure wasn’t it?”  
Bree heard the smile in his voice and nodded. She wasn’t sure she thought it had been a ‘good’ adventure but it was certainly exciting.  
“Ye were … verra brave.”  
“So were you.”  
“Och! I wasna! I nearly pissed mysel’ when ye started humming along wi’ the tree!”  
“I wasn’t humming!”  
“Aye ye were, ye eyes went all glazed like ye were about to cry and ye started humming like the tree was … It was verra eerie.”  
Bree frowned, she had no memory of that but then the whole encounter had become a bit of a blur. Ian seemed oblivious to her confusion and continued what he had been saying, his voice low and steady.  
“In truth cousin, I … well I was scared witless that ye were dyin’ and that the fae might come and claim ye back. It’s why I had to get ye away, I wouldna ha’ thought to man-handle ye as such otherwise.”  
He sounded rather embarrassed and Bree laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
“That could have happened Ian, there was something really weird I … I don’t know what but maybe Mama and I are Fae. But you did save me. You were really, really brave.”  
“Ye’d ha’ done the same.”  
Ian murmured bashfully and Bree shrugged  
“If I saw you talking to a creepy tree and then producing a weird magic box from the moss, I’d have probably run away to tell Aunt Jenny to call the Priest!”  
She joked but Ian nodded seriously  
“Aye, and right ye’d be to do so. But I’m ye older cousin and whatever else ye are, ye’re my best friend, it’s my duty to protect ye.”  
Bree tied off the neatened club with a pale green ribbon and swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat.  
“Aye, well. You’re my best friend too. Thank you Ian.”  
*  
Ian snr stood as if frozen, with his left hand on the doorknob of his son’s bedroom. His belt hung loosely by his side, his right hand wrapped once around the looped leather. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on the bairn’s conversation but upon hearing his niece offer to club his son’s hair, he had thought to give them a chance to neaten themselves and had overheard the rest by accident.  
He tapped the leather lightly against his leg and frowned. He’d been surprised when Jamie had told him of Brianna’s willingness to be strapped alongside her cousin, not that he didn’t think the lassie braw, he knew that she was. What had surprised him was the depth of feeling it showed between the two of them, they fought like cat and dog for the most part!  
“Like ye and Jamie did, aye? Would ye no’ ha’ gone to Hell and back for each other, even as bairns?”  
Jenny had said when he had told her and Ian had to admit the truth of it. Now listening to them he found his heart swelling with pride and with joy. Pride in their bravery, his son’s gallantry – not a word he had ever associated with his youngest before – and joy that they each had found such a friend in each other.   
Slowly he rebuckled his belt around his waist and stepped lightly away from the door. He walked backwards, not daring his wooden leg not to clonk the floorboards and give him away if he turned, his hand reaching for the banister. His hand connected with another’s and Ian whirled to face his friend.  
“Christ! Ye nearly gave me a fit!”  
Ian scolded in a frantic whisper. Jamie grinned at him and moved back so that they could both get down the stairs.  
“What were ye doin’ lurking there?”  
Ian demanded, still ruffled from the shock.  
“Weel as it happens I was bein’ a soft and sentimental auld fool, much like yeself.”  
Jamie spoke brashly but the gentle light in his eyes made Ian smile   
“Ye came to bear witness then?”  
“Aye. I ken ye wouldna send Bree to the gate and would likely see to matters privately up here and I was of a mind to go out for a walk but …”  
Jamie broke off shrugging self-consciously and Ian clapped a hand on his shoulder in sympathy.  
“Havin’ lassies is like nothin’ ye can ever begin to prepare yeself for mo charaid. It’s no’ the same wi’ lads.”  
Jamie snorted and gave a brief laugh.  
“It must be easier then for I canna imagine it bein’ harder.”  
Ian smiled and steered his friend into the study.  
“It’s no’ easier, it’s just different. Wi’ the lads ye are teaching them to be men, to do what is right and their duty, but wi’ a daughter …” Ian paused and chewed his lower lip thoughtfully  
“It sometimes feels as though she is the embodiment of her mother, but wi’ a wee bit o’ ye thrown in and the echo o’ her emotion sits in ye blood. If she is happy, ye are happy. If she is sad, ye are sad.”  
Ian snorted at himself and shook his head  
“I was thinkin’ o somethin’ I could get ye back with for the soft and sentimental auld fool comment, but ye were right!”  
Jamie poured a small dram of whisky into each of the two glasses which had appeared on his desk next to a plate of shortbread and handed one to Ian.   
“For what it’s worth man, I wouldna ha’ been able to thrash them either.”  
Ian rolled his eyes affectionately  
“No offence Jamie, but it’s no worth that much. Ye are softer than milky parritch wi’ Brianna!”   
Jamie grinned guiltily   
“I ken it well enough. They do need to be punished for the mill pond though – maybe get them to scrub the tower steps?”  
Ian grimaced   
“That is a fair awful task.”  
“Aye, I remember,”  
Jamie smiled ruefully and glanced out of the window toward the old tower  
“but it will keep them out o’ mischief far longer than a sore arse will and I do mean to make sure they remember to heed my word.”  
Ian drained his glass and nodded.   
“Alright. I’ll go and tell them, ye want me to say it was your idea?”  
Jamie shook his head  
“No, ye can be the enforcer.”  
“As ye wish. Besides if ye try and tell them and your daughter protests, ye’ll most likely end up scrubbing the damn things yeself!”  
Ian laughed and ducked the shortbread biscuit that was launched in his direction, before heading back upstairs.  
*  
That evening as Jamie hunched over his account books, the sounds of the children being shepherded toward bed by their mother’s reached him and he smiled to himself. He could hear Robbie loudly demanding a story and the gentle lilt of Claire’s voice as she assured him that a story would be had once teeth were brushed.  
The study door creaked open and Jamie looked up expectantly, thinking Ian had some matter of business to speak with him about.   
“Da? May I come in?”  
“Good evenin’ a leannan! Aye, o’ course.”  
Jamie smiled at Brianna and stretched his back, gesturing to the settee and then standing to join her on it.   
“How is the tower looking?”  
He asked and grinned at the barely concealed look of dislike that passed over Brianna’s face.  
“About as dank and grubby as it was this afternoon but now with wet patches! It’s impossible to clean it Da!”  
“Ye only have to scrub it, no’ eat ye dinner off it.”  
Jamie assured her and Bree rolled her eyes   
“No doubt that’s for if we go to the millpond again?”  
Jamie lowered his forehead to lightly butt against her own and lowered his voice to a growl  
“Dinna tempt me!”  
He wagged his eyebrows at her and Bree giggled despite herself.  
“So what is it I can do for ye Miss Fraser?”  
Jamie asked stretching languidly out, lifting his arms over his head and groaning.  
“I wanted to say sorry, for disobeying you … and for bringing the box back and upsetting Mama.”  
Jamie gave her leg a gentle pat and looked at her properly, dark blue eyes searching her face.  
“Ye did wrong by going there but once ye had the box, I dinna see as ye had much choice save bring the thing home.”  
“We could have thrown it in the pond.”  
Bree suggested and Jamie nodded, his lip quirking  
“Aye, and I would ha’ been tempted to do the same thing myself. But ye ken it was something that meant itself to be found and so I say that ye did right lass.”  
“Do you mind?”  
Bree asked, her voice soft and eyes downcast unable to look at Jamie  
“Mind what?”  
“That I might be … you know … I mean … if Mama is fae …”  
Jamie’s eyes widened catching her meaning and he shook his head hurriedly  
“Oh. Oh lass, ye ha’ nothin’ to concern yeself with on my account! I would love ye and ye Mam and brother the same no matter what!”   
“But aren’t you a bit … creeped out? I’m creeped out!”  
“Ye mean do I feel queer in my wame?”  
Father and daughter looked at each other a little perplexed and then both laughed. Jamie held his arm out to her and Bree gratefully curled into his side.  
“Ye and I may no’ speak exactly the same language all the time, it’s a difficulty I have wi’ ye Mam too sometimes,”  
Jamie chuckled and then his voice took on a warm, rich tone that made Bree feel instantly better  
“But it doesna matter. I love ye wi’ my whole heart and nothin’ could ever change that and I swear that I will love and protect ye to my last breath. Ye dinna need to fear me or anyone else while I am with ye.”  
"I know but ..."  
"But nothing,"  
Jamie said firmly  
"Whatever blood runs through ye veins Bree, Fae or not, half of it is Fraser. This is your home and I am your father. Not ye nor anyone else could ever make me question it."  
“I guess there is no denying I’m definitely yours, huh?”  
Jamie snorted loudly and kissed the top of her head  
“No, there isna. Even if it weren’t for the colour o’ ye hair and the look o’ ye, the fact that ye canna seem to go a week without makin’ ye poor father sick wi’ worry would prove it!”  
Bree grinned and kissed her father’s cheek, standing up at the sound of Claire calling her from upstairs.  
“Thanks Da, good night.”  
“Good night, Bree.”  
*


	5. Found pt5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short Jamie and Claire moment. Thank you for reading, H xx

Claire curled up on the bed and sighed as she slowly stretched her legs out, revelling in the unknotting of her muscles.   
“That’s a pleasant wee noise Sassenach.”  
Jamie tugged off his boots and let his belt drop to the floor beside them. He splashed some water from the pitcher into the small porcelain bowl and dipped a wash cloth into it, carefully mopping his face and neck.   
“It has been a rather tryin’ day.”  
He remarked casually and heard the sheets rustle as Claire sat up.  
“It has, but tomorrow will roll around soon enough.”  
Jamie gave her a small lopsided smile   
“Aye, too soon. What I want to do Sassenach, is crawl into bed beside ye and stay there, locked in your arms for a week at the very least.”  
Claire cocked her head to one side and stifled a yawn   
“As long as you don’t mind the fact that I’ll be asleep the whole time …”  
Jamie finished his ablutions and padded toward the bed, letting out a loud sigh of his own as the length of his spine relaxed into the mattress.   
“Christ! That feels so verra, verra good. I had thought that perhaps …”  
Jamie waved the thought off but Claire understood his meaning.  
“Don’t worry, I’m exhausted too.”  
Jamie grunted and rolled over onto his side, facing his wife and gently trailed his fingers across the smooth plain of her cheek.   
“Bree is convinced ye are a fairy.”  
“I might well be!”  
Claire chuckled, closing her eyes and giving herself over to Jamie’s touch.   
“That means it may no’ only be ye and Brianna who can … travel…”   
Jamie prodded gently and saw the smallest frown touch Claire’s brow  
“I know, but please … just for now can we not talk about it?”  
Her own hand came up and rested lightly on the nape of his neck, fingers toying with the softly curling hair that lay there.   
“I just want to be sure that …”  
Jamie bit his lip and closed his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to open them again. Claire searched his gaze and in the middle of their azure depths she found the cold, hard knot of fear that Jamie had carried with him since her return and she understood it fully.  
“I will never leave you again.”  
She articulated every syllable and felt the miniscule shudder that ran through his body, making his skin tremble beneath her fingers.  
“What if Brianna wishes to go back? She couldna go alone …”  
“I cannot speak for what Brianna will do as an adult, I have no right to. But hear me Jamie, I will never leave you. Death will be the only thing to separate me from your side.”  
Jamie’s fingers clenched involuntarily at the thought but he relaxed his hands and smoothed down the length of Claire’s arm, her skin golden in the firelight. It was rare for her to speak so emotively, but he was glad she had for he had needed to hear it. Despite her coming back with their daughter, despite her bearing him a son and making a life at Lallybroch, Jamie had needed to hear her say it. The appearance of the mysterious tin had only brought it to the surface.   
“You are my more than my heart Claire, I used to think that it is where I kept ye but I was wrong. Ye are my soul. Ye are what makes me who I am and without ye I am a sad and broken thing. I didna ken it could be so with another person but it is.”  
A single tear ran down the length of his nose and dripped onto the pillow beneath. Jamie blinked rapidly and swallowed, his voice hoarse when he spoke again  
“I’m so verra tired mo nigheann donn but just the sight o’ ye gives me such strength…”  
Claire rolled on top of Jamie, pressing their chests together, their heartbeats joining and finding a communal rhythm.  
“Show me.”  
She whispered, and gently, so very gently, Jamie did as she asked; their love fortifying them against the uncertainties of past and future, grounding them both in the present together.


End file.
